


from ivy

by lithopsornot



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019), Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: F/F, i don’t know anything abt plants i’m just gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lithopsornot/pseuds/lithopsornot
Summary: “that’s all she wanted—his love, his approval. Not that she usually got it. Not like from Ivy.”- based off that one comic strip
Relationships: Harley Quinn/Poison Ivy, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	from ivy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sapphicwisteria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicwisteria/gifts).



ivy’s a loving person.

that much harley can tell, can believe in. she has never been one to trust things she can’t see, things she can’t touch or taste or tamper with. her thoughts and feelings, intangible creatures that feed into intangible ideas, those were always what landed her into the same messes. her thoughts of loving him, her feelings of being loved back, those were always what brought her to ivy’s doorstep. loving ivy’s doorstep. ivy, who is so, so easy to believe in that it scares her sometimes. the truth of it all turning her a little cold on the inside. harley’s hands and feet freezing when she feels herself start to trust. just a little. trust in the little things. things that she can feel for real. 

like ivy’s plants, the small potted ones carefully placed on top of the shoe cupboard, on the kitchen countertop, on the floor of her bedroom, the dresser, the vanity. the patch of soil they’re rooted in that she touches when ivy’s not looking, slightly damp from the morning, from when ivy had crawled out of bed quietly and watered them as she mumbled something sweet. 

they’ve taken over the house naturally, seamlessly threading themselves into the space. it’s to the point where all harley can make out some days, hazy days, is the small bursts of green peeking out from here and there. 

and it’s a little stupid, how human they seem to her. how they smile when ivy wishes them a good morning while setting down two cups of coffee on the kitchen table. how they sway side to side, humming softly, as they watch the two share breakfast together. harley doesn’t miss how they slouch and grumble among themselves when ivy leaves the apartment. how they whine when ivy’s not giving them enough attention. and how they giggle sometimes, when ivy’s scolding her for closing the blinds and not letting enough sunlight in. 

and ivy has full control over the plants, they have to do what she says. so at first harley found it weird that, most of the time, she doesn’t say anything at all. maybe it’s because ivy’s patient, because she’s loving, because she’s the person harley can believe in. maybe that’s why she doesn’t force anything to grow more than it can handle growing, doesn’t rush the process or overwhelm. maybe that’s why that when ivy wakes up at dawn, walks out to the balconies, she doesn’t do anything except tsk at the brown spots on the verbena resting by the edge, just tells them to say something next time they’re finding it hard to stretch, before going inside to check on the others. 

maybe that’s why they’re so good to her when the time calls. why they protect her so well and by relation, protect harley too. 

harley is sure of her theory, in the same way she’s sure ivy has no clue. sure that she isn’t making a trade. isn’t saying “i’ll take care of you now, so later, you take care of me,”. that’s not it for her. harley can see it in the colors, can feel it in the soil, can taste it in the cherry tomatoes and tiny peppers, and she can hear it, in every word ivy mumbles to them when she thinks harley’s fallen asleep. 

harley knows she’s not the same as a houseplant. or well, she hopes she’s not. she doesn’t take up that much of ivy’s space, her life. she isn’t as coy as the ferns on the cupboard or as sweet as the peace lillies in the kitchen. not as easy as the marigolds outside or as funny as the lithops on the vanity. but she has made ivy smile a lot, made her laugh even more. harley’s not found on every surface but she does have a couple of outfits in ivy’s dresser, her shoes are sitting somewhere in the closet by the door. there’s her toothbrush in the bathroom and she’s confident that one of the pillows on the bed smells like her hair now. 

and well, ivy wakes up for her too. she makes her breakfast with all kinds of fruit and let’s her help with flipping the pancakes. she holds her hand when she thinks it’s right, even though it’s always right and harley just isn’t ready to say that yet. she speaks soft words to her when it’s already so, so quiet. ivy keeps her bright and vibrant but not in the way her hair or makeup or clothes are. 

happy. maybe ivy makes her feels happy. 

ivy’s a loving person. she believes that.

ivy loves harley. maybe she believes that too.

**Author's Note:**

> this reads like a mess but i want u to know i’m thinking of u even if we’re not with each other.


End file.
